Negotiating With Terrorists 101
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When Dave babysits the littlest Hotchner for the evening, he learns a valuable lesson. There is no terrorist more dangerous than a child! TWOSHOT
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello, readers! Just a couple of notes today -**

**Friends, don't forget to vote in "The Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards" headquartered at "Chit Chat on Author's corner" forum (it can also be reached thru my profile page or tonnie2001969 profile page if you choose). We've had a phenomenal response so far, but we want each one of you to be heard thru your vote. Voting ends on November 30th and details can be found at the forum. Please everyone, let your voice be heard and come choose your favorite nominees and recognize them.**

**New interviews are posted on "Chit Chat" with our very talented co-authors: MissdaVinci77, ChristyKateBrewster, Hopeless-Romantic-Daydreamer, Luna Argenta and jungleanimal. Check them as well as several of our other nominees out. We'll be adding more as we draw closer to the end of the awards!**

**Thanks to everyone that continues to read, review alert and favorite...we truly appreciate each one of you!**

* * *

**Negotiating With Terrorists 101**

_**PYOP Prompt: Character A babysits one of his/her coworker's children and calls Character B for help.**_

**Chapter One**

David Rossi had dealt with psychopaths and unsubs. Pushy editors and demanding publishers. And, lastly he'd dealt with the devil in female form...three times, for Christ's sake. He was experienced with the deadlier things in life. He'd taken his risks on a regular basis. Gladly. Willingly.

Hell, normally he relished a good challenge, pitting his mental fortitude against the power of pure evil in a battle meant to sharpen him and annihilate his opponent.

But as much as he enjoyed a good run for his money, he wasn't a stupid man. He knew when to admit when he'd been beaten.

And this time, he'd not just been beaten; he'd been pulverized.

By a freaking five year old.

Squatting on the floor, his knees creaking with the unexpected effort, Dave met the dark, familiar eyes of his opponent underneath his kitchen table. "C'mon, Jackster, be reasonable man..."

"Nope," Jack Hotchner said in a decidedly resolute voice, his sturdy little legs drawn to his chest with his chin resting against the knees. "Can't do it," he shook his head firmly, his tone so much like his father's it was eerie.

"There's only three, Jack," Dave tried again, willing to negotiate but not dumb enough to give away his strategy. Who the hell knew that three little Brussels sprouts could create such havoc? "What if I put cheese on top of them?" he offered gamely, wracking his brain for any possible compromise that would allow both of them to return to the land of the upright.

"Still green underneath," Jack stated firmly, narrowing his eyes in doubt. "I don't eats the green stuff, Uncle Dave."

"You eat lettuce, don't you?" Dave asked, grasping for the nearest straw…or vegetable, as the case may be.

"Nope."

"Peas?" Dave asked hopefully.

"Nuh uh."

"Lime Jello!" Dave said, snapping his fingers in what he was certain would be victory.

"Ewwww," Jack grimaced, scrunching his nose as he glared at the man who was supposed to be smarter.

"Yeah, gotta agree with ya on that one," Dave sighed, hanging his head. "What about green M&Ms?" he asked, brightening slightly. What kid passed up on chocolate candy?

"Unca Morgan says the green ones mean you'll find a girlfriend. I always pick 'em out," Jack shuddered, his lips pursing in perfect horror at the thought. "Girls are yucky!"

"Jack," Rossi begged, his knees protesting vehemently once again as he tried to change position, "I promised your dad that you'd eat at least one veggie tonight. That was the deal, buddy. C'mon, help Uncle Dave out of a jam."

"Got any French fries?" the little terrorist asked in a perfectly reasonable voice.

"Why?" Dave asked, perplexed. What the devil did French fries have to do with their current dilemma?

"Cuz," Jack said patiently, "French fries is made from potatoes. And potatoes is a vegetable," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, his logic completely clear and understandable in his mind.

Closing his eyes, David Rossi, successful hostage negotiator of more than twenty national crises, silently counted to ten. "I don't have any potatoes, Jack. I've got Brussels sprouts."

"Then, I'm sorry, Unca Dave. But we can't do business today," Jack stated, shrugging his slim shoulders regretfully as he scooted a few inches further underneath the sturdy mahogany table.

"What are you, kid? John Gotti?" Dave asked incredulously.

"No, silly. I'm Jackson Aaron Hotchner," Jack laughed before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, "And I don't eat no green stuff."

Inhaling deeply, Dave eyed the determined youngster in front of him. "Okay, Jackson Aaron Hotchner, let's talk numbers," he suggested eagerly, deciding that if money was going to talk, it should begin the discussion now. "How much will it take?"

"Huh?" Jack grunted, cocking his head.

Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, Dave unfolded his worn leather billfold, shooting the boy an assessing glance, "Five bucks a sprout?" Seeing Jack's lips tighten, he upped the ante. "Ten?" Watching as Jack rolled his eyes, Dave nodded. "Okay, kid. Twenty a sprout. That's my finally offer."

"I don't take no hives," Jack humphed, his glare obviously indicating that he viewed Rossi's motives to be less than above board.

"I think you mean bribes," Dave said heavily, hanging his head, nearly defeated. How the hell was he gonna get those three freaking sprouts down the kid without forcibly cramming them down his little throat?

"Whatever," Jack snorted, his little boy nose wrinkling. "Daddy say they're irregal."

"Illegal. And that's only if you get caught," Dave grumbled.

"Cheaters never prosper," Jack wagged a finger at his uncle with a piousness that only a child could possess. "They only get old and die."

"Promise?" Rossi asked plaintively, leaning his head against the edge of the table as he wondered if lying to his best friend would be a perfectly acceptable option in this situation.

"Yep!" Jack declared triumphantly.

"Something to look forward to," Dave muttered as he hauled his protesting body off the floor, his knees and ankles reminding him that he was getting entirely too advanced in years to spend quality time on the expensive ceramic tile.

"Where ya goin'?" Jack asked from his hiding spot, his head peeking out from around the edge of the carved table leg.

"To call in the big guns," Rossi said over his shoulder as he reached for the phone on the wall.

"Daddy's not home," Jack said smugly.

Nope, Dave thought grimly, he wasn't. But God, please let Aunt JJ answer the phone. If anybody would have a clue how to deal with his recalcitrant charge, it would be her. She had one of her own rugrats, after all. She should be an expert by now, should she?

Ten minutes later, his current predicament explained to his so-called supportive colleague, Jennifer Jareau's laughter rang in his ears. "This is NOT the time for maniacal laughter, Jareau," he hissed into the phone, cupping his hand around the receiver. "I need help over here!"

"You've been outwitted by a five year old, Dave! You expect me NOT to enjoy this?" JJ choked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes as she pictured the great David Rossi on his hands and knees as he attempted to coax Hotch's reluctant son from under the table. "This is just too priceless," she giggled, wondering if it was possible to send in a SWAT team…armed with a camera, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hello, readers! Just a couple of notes today -**

**Friends, don't forget to vote in "The Criminal Minds Profiler's Choice Awards" headquartered at "Chit Chat on Author's corner" forum (it can also be reached thru my profile page or tonnie2001969 profile page if you choose). We've had a phenomenal response so far, but we want each one of you to be heard thru your vote. Voting ends on November 30th and details can be found at the forum. Please everyone, let your voice be heard and come choose your favorite nominees and recognize them.**

**New interviews are posted on "Chit Chat" with our very talented co-authors:Morivanim, SSA Cuteass, jirrg, mrytale2-5, and SSAEmilyHotchner. Check them, as well as several of our other nominees, out. We'll be adding more as we draw closer to the end of the awards!**

**Thanks to everyone that continues to read, review alert and favorite...we truly appreciate each one of you!**

* * *

**Negotiating With Terrorists 101**

**Chapter Two**

"Well," Dave said, offended, "I'm glad you're finding enjoyment in my misery. Remind me of this at Christmas."

"Do I have time to conference Garcia into this phone call?" JJ wondered aloud, her eyes widening at the thought.

"Focus, JJ," Dave demanded, barely resisting the urge to stomp his own foot. "Your nephew is gathering dust under my table."

"Okay, okay," JJ said, attempting to control her chuckles. "Brussels sprouts, huh?"

"They were all I had, Jen. I wasn't exactly prepared for an overnight guest when Hotch got called out of town. Especially of the five year old variety," he defended himself. "I promised Aaron I'd get at least one veggie down him tonight and those were my options...it was that or an onion."

Getting a mental image of Rossi's bachelor refrigerator, JJ remarked, her tone dry, "Please tell me you didn't offer him a scotch or beer to drink."

"I did not contribute to the delinquency of a minor, thank you very much. I gave him orange juice."

"Had it for the screwdrivers, did ya?" JJ asked, tongue in cheek.

"That's beside the point," Dave replied briskly. "Let's just agree that I'm desperately trying not to corrupt our hope for tomorrow's future and leave it at that, okay? What the hel-...heck can I do to make it through the current problem, Jen?"

"Did you try disguising them?" JJ asked lightly.

"Yeah, I put 'em in little hats and glasses," Rossi said snidely, rolling his eyes.

"I meant with cheese, Dave," JJ laughed, unable to stop the bubbling giggles determined to roll through her voice.

"Cheese was a no-go," Dave denied, shaking his head morosely. "Gimmee something I haven't already thought of, Jareau."

"Hmmm," JJ hummed thoughtfully, tapping her finger against her lips.

"Could I get some words to go with that?" Dave harped, running a frustrated hand through his salt and pepper hair while he tapped his foot impatiently against the tiled floor.

"Well," JJ sighed, "there's only one alternative I can think of, but I doubt you'll be too thrilled."

"Jen, I'm desperate here. I'm willing to try anything that doesn't involve rope and handcuffs," Dave offered eagerly.

"An eating contest," JJ supplied with a snap of her fingers. "It works with Henry sometimes."

"Pardon?" Dave cringed. Please don't let her be proposing what he thought she was proposing, he prayed fervently.

"An eating contest. You know, you put the same number of sprouts on your plate and you race to see who can eat theirs fastest," JJ explained. "And you have to let him win, Dave. He's five," she reminded him sternly, not at all certain that the older man would be willing to throw the game.

"Nuh uh," Dave grunted, his own nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Why not?" JJ asked with a long-suffering sigh.

"I hate Brussels sprouts, JJ," Dave whined, swallowing hard as he recalled the taste.

"Me, too," Jack yelled from underneath the table.

"Dave, that's what you served," JJ sighed. "Why would you serve them if you don't like them?"

"Because I wasn't going to eat them," Dave retorted, his brow furrowed. "He was."

"Am not!" Jack yelled rebelliously, obviously having heard every word being exchanged between the two so-called adults currently in charge of his young life.

"Are so!" Dave returned boldly.

"Dave, you've devolved into a five year old boy," JJ giggled again.

"He started it," Dave complained, shooting a disgusted glance toward the vegetables on the table, their little round shapes reminding him of marauding aliens. "They're green, JJ," Dave protested. "Green and slimy."

"I already said that!" Jack groaned, his voice muffled as he buried his face in his knees.

"All right," JJ said forcefully, using her mother voice, "Dave, I expect you to be the adult there. You're the oldest. Now, be a big boy and spoon those Brussels sprouts on your plate this instant!"

Lips flattening, Dave's jaw clenched as he stomped toward the counter and quickly spooned three sprouts on his own plate. "Fine! It's done," he said belligerently.

"Good," JJ praised, softening her voice a bit. "Now I want you to plop your butt down in the floor and both of you are gonna race to clean those plates. Got it?" she asked tersely.

"Got it," Dave muttered, glaring at the green balls rolling around on his plate.

"Good," JJ choked, barely containing her glee. "I'll expect a full report in the morning," she finished, her voice strangling as she hung up the phone.

Sighing heavily, Dave dropped the phone on the table and grabbed both plates. Laboriously going back on his knees, he met Jack's eyes underneath the table. "Aunt JJ says we both have to eat 'em," he said, sliding Jack's plate in front of him.

Eyes going round, Jack grimaced. "But..."

"We're gonna race," Dave interrupted, staring down at his own daunting sprouts. "First one done picks tonight's movie."

"I don't wanna watch a movie," Jack argued, again crossing his arms over his chest as he stared in doubt at the plate.

"I don't wanna eat Brussels sprouts, kid, but I'm willing to do it for you," Dave grumbled, mimicking Jack's pose. "You scared I'll beat ya?"

"You can't beat me...you're old," Jack goaded, his hands dropping down to his sides.

"Oh yeah?" Dave snorted, stabbing a sprout with his fork, "Put your sprout where your mouth is then."

And thirty seconds later as he forced himself to swallow his second sprout, David Rossi watched Jack Hotchner pump his fist out and whoop for joy.

"Beat ya!" he sneered, grinning widely as he pointed to Rossi's plate. "You still have one whole sprout left, Uncle Dave! I win, you lose!"

"So you do," Dave nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Guess you get to pick that movie after all."

Scrambling from underneath the table, Jack grinned. "Looks like it's Pokeman for you, Uncle Dave," he yelled enthusiastically as he ran toward the door, pausing to wag a finger back at him. "But not 'til you finish your sprout," he ordered before disappearing into the hallway.

And there sitting in the floor of his kitchen, David Rossi realized just exactly why he'd never chosen to breed...chasing unsubs was a walk in the park compared to raising children.

_**FINIS**_


End file.
